Page 17 of The Trick of the Treasure
“Actually, I’m not sure what to make of him. He is very young, of course, and in his father’s shadow, but he does seem rather…offhand—about the treasure and everything else. The selfishness of youth, I suppose.”
“Lloyd didn’t tell his family about employing us,” Solomon said thoughtfully. “He sprang us on them without warning.”
“You think he suspects one of them and was trying to make them betray themselves through surprise?”
“Maybe. He plays his cards close to his chest. I wonder what he has not toldus?”
Constance thought about that, too, then turned to the matter of their suspects. “On the face of it, the family is likeliest,” she said. “Any of them could have taken the keys while he was away, copied them, and opened the strong room during the night.”
“Except Sydney, although he could have copied them earlier. We need to talk to the locksmith. Would you like to go to the opera tomorrow evening?”
Constance, who had been gazing out of the window as the carriage rumbled its way through Covent Garden, turned to him in surprise. “It’s very public.”
“Do you mean to hide?” he asked.
She took a deep breath. “I may not affect your business, Solomon, but I will affect your social standing.”
“I have never sought social standing, and I very much doubt I have any.”
“More than you know,” she said seriously.
“Are you saying no to the opera?”
“No. I’m saying…” Actually, she didn’t know what she was saying, except that attending the opera with him in the full glare of, she was sure, many of the gentlemen who attended her establishment on a regular basis was both damaging for him and terrifying for her.
“Don’t lose your courage because of me,” he said. “It is one of the things I first loved in you.”
The carriage had halted without her noticing. He opened the carriage door and alighted before holding out his hand to her.
She stared at him.He loves me. Solomon Greylovesme.
The miracle of that would always take her by surprise.
Closing her mouth, she swallowed and took his hand to step down in front of her mother’s new shop. “Of course I will go to the opera with you.”
*
Her mother’s shopconsisted of an eclectic display of antiquities and curios, the valuable and the valueless, the beautiful and the frankly ugly. Spread out around the shelves and cabinets, in the bright light gleaming through the large window and glass door, they presented a fascinating array to browsers and collectors. Two sets of customers were already wandering around. A third was having something wrapped by the proprietress.
Juliet Silver had found her element. Dressed in a unique, exotic style of flowing gowns and shawls, she looked like some Byzantine princess of ages past. Constance felt her lips twitch, just as her mother glanced up and saw them.
She beamed, for she and Constance had recently reached a sort of rapprochement. It might not have been total understanding, but it was an acknowledgment of affection, a bond that could not be broken.
“Good afternoon!” she said. “I shall be with you shortly.”
It had become habit between them to pretend no relationship, mostly so that neither could be used against the other by the nastier of the criminals who had inhabited both their worlds until recently.
Constance wandered over to a small but eye-catching porcelain tea set. The shapes were exquisite, the painted design of interlocking flowers beautiful and somehow happy. She had a sudden vision of serving tea in them to Solomon and the Tizsas and other shadowy friends.
Where will we live?she thought in sudden fright.
Not in her establishment—that would never work. She felt more than a flicker of regret for that. She wondered about his little house behind the Strand. Or would they choose somewhere new?
“Gerry,” her mother called through the door into the back of the shop, and the familiar figure of the lad who had been her gatekeeper in her old—rather less salubrious—quarters emerged. He looked somewhat self-conscious and stiff in his smart new suit, but he had scrubbed up remarkably well.
Constance smiled, glad to see him still with her mother.
He grinned back. “Afternoon, Miss Connie.”
